Sanity // s.m. [IN EDITING]

[28]

Elliot

***

I have seen Shawn go into a full-on, undiluted and complete panic a total of twice in the whole time that we have known each other.

The first time was a little more than four years ago, when my family and I were going on vacation in Hawaii. Shawn was in charge of getting me to the airport, since our luggage took up too much space in our small Honda and I had to ride separate. However, we got a flat tire right off the turnpike, and Tripple A had taken nearly an hour to arrive, almost causing me to miss my flight.

But that kind of panic-- the kind that had Shawn gripping the steering wheel tightly with his clammy fingers, sweat beading on his temples as he floored the gas all the way to the curb right outside the airport-- did not compare to this kind.

In fact, had it been a contest on which scenario caused him to lose his mind more, it wasn't even a close call. What I was witnessing right now would effortlessly win, easily, and that's without doing any of the math.

I watched as he dug his fingernails far into the opposite elbows, arms crossed over his chest as he rocked back on forth on the balls of his feet, his hair a tangled, disheveled mess.

He squeezed his tired eyes shut, struggling to think of a way out of the life altering mess he had just got himself into-- much less sort out all of the new information he'd just received, and deal with the denial of it all.

I could only imagine how he was feeling right now, and even that was a chore. I have never seen him react this way.

As Sarah began to cry again, breathing heavy as she crouched down on the ground against the wall by all of the buttons, that Brian guy kneeled beside her, and he placed his palms over her tight fists.

"What are we gonna do?" Brian looks up at Shawn and me, as if I was somehow involved in this.

"I don't know," I say quickly, "the emergency button isn't working."

"No shit," Brian scoffs in response, his index finger pressing repeatedly into the red button with the white bell on it.

"Try calling 911," he instructs me.

"I already tried," I shift my gaze to him, the two of us being the only ones actually communicating since Shawn and Sarah were much to stunned or in pain to speak. "There's no service in here."

This profound statement causes Shawn to press his lips together, square his jaw, close his eyes and shake his head ever so slightly.

"She's not giving birth in an elevator," Brian speaks for Sarah, who was holding onto her stomach and biting back groans. "We have to get out of here."

I glance at Shawn, waiting for him to say something. He just stands still and stares straight ahead, all of his jitters turned to shock.

"Shawn?" I croak softly, out of ideas.

He opened his mouth slowly to speak, only to close it soon after.

"Fine," Brian rolls his eyes. "I don't know why you're all freaked out, man, but take a chill pill and help us find a way out of here. It's your fault we're even in this mess in the first place."

"Quit it," I tilt my head, my fingers fiddling with the rolled sleeve of my jeaned denim jacket. "Shawn had the right to be upset and do what he did."

"Don't try to act like he's this big victim," Brian lazily shakes his finger in Shawn's direction, eyes narrowing on me. "Sarah was here feeling lonely and neglected while he was off in New York fucking you."